The Right Choice
by HarryPotterNut199f
Summary: Voldemort knew that when you had an enemy cornered you shouldn't untie him, give him back his wand and challenge him to a duel.
1. Day 1

_Day 1 – 24/6/1995_

"Kill the spare"

There was a flash of green light and then Cedric collapsed. Cedric was dead. Harry wanted to scream but the sound seemed stuck in his throat. The pain in Harry's scar was almost blinding him now, he couldn't think, couldn't move. Wormtail was saying something but the burning in Harry's scar prevented him from focusing on anything more than the fact Cedric was dead. The red beam from Wormtail's wand hit him and the graveyard faded to black.

Harry woke, blinking his eyes blearily, for a moment he wasn't sure where he was or what had happened. Then it hit him and he panicked. There was a wad of material in his mouth stopping him from speaking. He tried to move his arms, desperately grabbing for his wand but his wrists were tied to the gravestone that was pressing against his back. He tried pulling at them but they didn't give, the coarse rope just tugged on his wrists.

He gave up the hope of getting out of the ropes for the moment and he looked around instead. There was a stone cauldron in front of him filled with water, it was bigger than any cauldron harry had used of even seen before.

Wormtail placed the bundle that had given the order for Cedric's death on the ground and lit flames below the cauldron, the water began to bubble and send out fiery sparks. Harry decided that it probably wasn't water. Wormtail left the cauldron to spark and pulled the cloth away from the bundle. Harry was horrified, it was shaped like baby, but it was hairless and raw with gleaming red eyes peering out of it flat snakelike face. With a look of revulsion on his face Wormtail lifted the thing and placed it gently in the cauldron.

The pain in Harry's scar got worse, it seemed as though it was burning through his forehead.

Wormtail stated to speak. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"

The grave Harry was standing on broke open and a dirty white trail of dust trickled past him into the cauldron.

"Flesh of the servant willingly given you will revive your master." Wormtail was whimpering now. He pulled out a dagger and sobbing he stretched out his right hand. He swung the dagger downwards and Harry realised what was going to happen. He shut his eyes. There was a piecing scream and then a splash as Wormtail's hand fell into the cauldron. Harry couldn't look and he kept his eyes shut until he heard footsteps coming towards him.

"Blood of the enemy forcibly taken you will resurrect your foe."

Harry couldn't do anything, he was tied too tightly. Wormtail raised the dagger he had used to cut his own hand off up to Harry's arm. Harry started to shake. The dagger was pressed down into the crook of Harry's arm and drawn up towards his wrist. Blood dripped from the gash and Wormtail caught some in a vial. The blood was tipped into the cauldron and then, job done, Wormtail sank to his knees cradling his arm.

The cauldron started billowing steam, and through the mist Harry saw the dark shape of a man slowly standing up. "Robe me," said the high cold voice from behind the steam and Wormtail scrambled to do what the voice had ordered.

Once he was clothed the man stepped out of the cauldron. Tall and thin, his face whiter than bone, the man looked like a nightmare. Harry could not tear his eyes away from the man's livid scarlet eyes.

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

Voldemort did no even glance at Harry nor did he take the slightest notice of Wormtail who was crumpled on the floor quietly sobbing, he began examining his own body caressing it. He dipped one of his pale slender fingers into a pocket in his robes and drew out his wand. He held it with the tips of his fingers, as though he was not used to the way his body moved yet. Harry realised this was probably true.

Finally Voldemort turned to Wormtail, ordering him to hold out his arm. The man laughed as Wormtail held out the stump, thanking him.

"The other arm, Wormtail," said Voldemort lazily.

The bleeding man's face fell as he did as ordered. Voldemort pulled the man's robes back and pressed his long white forefinger to the Dark Mark branded on Wormtail's arm.

Pain seared through Harry's scar as the Mark turned jet black.

The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks as hooded men materialised between the graves. Each Death Eater fell to their knees, crawled foreword and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes. Then they pulled back forming a circle, though gaps were left as though they were waiting for others to arrive. Voldemort did not seem to notice the gaps. He spoke, his voice still high and cold.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," said Voldemort quietly. "Thirteen years… thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday, we are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?"

He twisted his terrible face into a mask of disgust, glaring around at the Death Eaters.

A second shiver ran around the circle, as though each member of it longed, but did not dare to step back from him.

"I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact - such prompt appearances! And I ask myself… why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?"

No one spoke. No one moved except Wormtail, who was upon the ground, still sobbing over his bleeding arm.

"It is a disappointment to me… I confess myself disappointed…"

One of the men suddenly flung himself forward, breaking the circle. Trembling from head to foot, he collapsed at Voldemort's feet.

"Master!" he shrieked, "Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!"

Voldemort began to laugh. He raised his wand.

"Crucio!"

The Death Eater on the ground writhed and shrieked. When he lowered his wand the tortured Death Eater lay flat upon the ground, gasping.

"Get up, Avery," said Voldemort softly. "Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. You must make up for your betrayal"

"Take Wormtail here, he returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of his old friends." He looked down at the sobbing Wormtail. "You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Master," moaned Wormtail, "please. Master… please…"

"Yet you helped return me to my body," said Voldemort coolly, watching Wormtail sob on the ground. "Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me… and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers…"

Voldemort raised his wand again and a streak of molten shot though the air. It writhed and the attached itself to Wormtail's stump, forming into a replica of a hand. Wormtail abruptly stopped sobbing, staring at the hand in amazement.

"My Lord... Master... Thank you" he whispered.

"May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail," replied Voldemort before turning to one of his masked followers.

"Lucius, my slippery friend," he whispered, halting before him. "I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius… Your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay… but might not your energies have been better directed toward finding and aiding your master?"

"My Lord, I was constantly on the alert," came Lucius Malfoy's voice swiftly from beneath the hood. "Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately, nothing could have prevented"

"Do not lie to me" Voldemort spat out. Lucius' mouth snapped shut. He placed the tip of his wand on Lucius' neck and traced the veins that stood out against his pale skin. Lucius went very still; his eyes were stretched wide with panic. "You ran from my Mark, when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer?" said Voldemort lazily, Lucius was now shaking. "Yes, I know all about that, Lucius… You have disappointed me… Crucio" Voldemort's voice cut though the air. Lucius started screaming. When Voldemort stopped the spell, Lucius was on the ground panting and shivering. "You are lucky that you are well placed in the ministry, I may have a use for you. However I expect more faithful service in the future."

"Of course, my Lord, of course… You are merciful, thank you…" Lucius whimpered staring at the floor not daring to look the Dark Lord in the eyes.

"I will give you a chance to prove yourself to me…" Voldemort pulled away from Lucius twisting round so that that he was directly facing Harry "but first I will introduce our guest of honour, you all know him of course, Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived." All of the Deatheaters turned to look at Harry as Voldemort stalked closer. "Many of you believe that he is perhaps stronger than me, more powerful. You are wrong." Slowly almost lazily Voldemort lifted his wand up until it rested on Harry's car.

"Crucio"

Harry screamed though his gag. The pain was unimaginable. He could not tell how long he was under the curse for, only that it hurt badly and when it finally stopped Harry hung limply his wrists throbbing where the ropes binding them had tightened while he had thrashed.

"Crucio"

The pain was even worse this time, Harry hadn't realised it was possible. He was screaming again, he could hear himself muffled though the gag, feel the shrieks tear his throat. When the pain stopped this time his throat was raw and the clearing rang with the Death Eaters' laughter.

Voldemort came closer, his snakelike eyes gleeful. When he spoke his face was so close to Harry's he could feel Voldemort's breath ghosting across his cheek. His voice was soft and quiet, it was almost a hiss.

"I'm going to kill you Harry Potter".

Harry struggled against the headstone; trying to get away. Blood was dripping from the stinging cut stretching across his arm.

Voldemort glared at Harry, cold sharp eyes focused on his scar. There was a strange brittle quality to Voldemort's expression, Harry realised the last time Voldemort had stood like this with his wand hovering over Harry's face it had been seconds before he had been ripped apart, turned into something less than human and destroyed by his mother's last gift.

He didn't want to die. Harry struggled harder; he tried ripping at the ropes binding him to the headstone tearing his wrists. He fought, clawing the stone desperately trying to pull his arms free. He would not let Voldemort win.

Voldemort's wand never wavered as he watched Harry bleed and squirm; his voice was high and cold.

"Avada Kedavra"

There was a flash of green light.

**...**

Harry realised that he didn't hurt anymore and decided that whatever was happening was an improvement. He didn't know where he was but there was nobody else there. He was alone, he was sure of it. He hadn't opened his eyes to check yet but the silence was telling. He couldn't even hear anybody breathing, not even himself. Absentmindedly Harry wondered what that meant but he couldn't seem to get worried about it, it didn't seem like it mattered. He felt very peaceful and very light, it was as if he was made of smoke and could just float away. He thought that maybe he would let himself, it might be like flying and Harry had a vague notion that he liked flying very much.

Something was telling him it was a bad idea though. He felt like he needed to stay but he didn't know why. It was like he had forgotten something or someone important. Ron and Hermione's faces bloomed in his head but the rippled away like water as soon as his mind tried to grasp hold of them. Harry started thinking about flying again.

Quite suddenly Harry was tired of darkness, he wondered if he could open his eyes, he wondered if he even had eyes. Harry blinked and realised that he was able to see. He assumed that this meant he had eyes of some sort. Looking down Harry found that he wasn't made of vapour; he had a body to go along with his eyes. Belatedly he realised he wasn't wearing any clothes however, this bothered him about as much as the possibility of him being dead; there was nobody around to see. Again he felt a nagging sense that he was forgetting something or someone, a big black dog floated into his mind. Then it was gone and Harry was distracted by his surroundings which were definitely not solid. Smoky fog whispered around him almost twirling into shapes but just falling short. Harry wandered, following the smoke trails.

The sound of small rasping breath reached his ears – somebody breathing, he wasn't alone. For the first time his nakedness bothered him, but almost as soon as the thought was formed a small pile of robes appeared. He put them on and followed the sound, the breaths were getting shallower and he could hear whimpering now. There were small thuds and a wet sort of slapping sound echoing through the wide misty space as if the creature that made them was failing and struggling. The sound made Harry uncomfortable as though it was something he was not supposed to witness but even so he was drawn forward by a mixture of curiosity and horrified fascination.

There under a seat, there was something. Harry got closer and then recoiled as the thing came into sight. It had the form of a small, naked child, curled on the ground, its skin raw and rough, flayed-looking, and it lay abandoned on the floor shuddering and struggling for breath.

Harry didn't know what it was, but although the childlike thing seemed vulnerable Harry did not want to touch it. He felt guilty, he knew that he should want to help, it was hurt but h could not bring himself to get any nearer.

"Harry"

He jerked away from the raw whimpering thing and twisted around before freezing to the spot, all thoughts of the creature fled from his mind.

A women with long red hair stood smiling behind him, despite the smile she looked sad, as if she was about to cry.

"Mum" Harry whispered, the word coming out as a small, soft breath. The memories that he had been missing came drifting back – Ron, Hermione, Sirius, he could remember their faces but they seemed distant and disconnected, like the memories belonged to a different person. All Harry could think about was his mother standing in front of him.

Lily nodded and stepped forward, she ran her hands through Harry's hair. They were shaking. "I'm so proud of you" She spoke softly, almost as quietly as Harry had; "I love you" she smiled properly this time.

"I don't understand" Harry mumbled, still in shock. "How?" It was his mother; she was the same as Harry had seen her in the Mirror of Erised but this time she was real, Harry could touch her. She was still stroking his hair. "Am I dead?" His mum's smile dimmed again.

"I am afraid so" Harry felt a stab of panic, Voldermort was back, he needed to warn people, he couldn't be dead. He remembered Ron and Hermione, their faces were finally clear in his mind. He had to do something, they needed help, he had to go back. The fear flashed across Harry's face and he was jerking away before his mum pulled him into a hug. Harry froze, his mum was hugging him. It felt better than when Mrs Weasley had done it, it felt better than anything. He suddenly felt very warm. His friend's faces faded along with the panic, sinking back into the murky depths of his memory.

Harry didn't know how long he stood with his arms wrapt around his mother and he didn't care. It felt nice.

"Where am I" Harry asked without pulling back. Lily did pull back but only enough that she could see his face.

"Take a look and see" she answered. Harry did, the white mist that he was sure had been present just moments before was gone and in its place was...

"It's a train station, King's Cross" He exclaimed. "Do you know where the trains go?" Lily smiled sadly again.

"They take you on"

Harry blinked "I can't go back can I?"

She shook her head.

Harry got on the train; his mother's arm was wrapped around him. Harry was finally going home.


	2. Day 2

_Day 2 – 25/6/1995 _

**DAILY PROPHET **

**Boy Who Lived Vanishes**

**_Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived disappeared last night in the final task of the Triwizard Tournament._ **

Harry Potter has continually denied putting his own name forward for the Triwizard Tournament, witnesses state he said that he 'felt that someone else had done it, perhaps to do him harm'. He seems to have been right. The Boy Who Lived vanished during the Third Task after touching the Triwizard cup along with one other champion.

In in the wake of the excitement about the Tournament, it is apparent that Professor Dumbledore Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been neglecting the safety of the students under his care. However he is not the only one at fault, the tragedy occurred in a tournament that the Minister for Magic himself claimed was perfectly safe with the new regulations and restrictions placed on it.

There has been no sign of the Boy Who Lived since he disappeared and reports say that searches of Hogwarts grounds have not revealed anything. It is unknown who or what might have done this.

The Boy Who Lived, supposedly the most well protected individual this side of the channel vanished under the very noses of the ones tasked with protecting him. Not only did he disappear while on school grounds under the gaze of Albus Dumbledore but Minister Fudge along with numerous Ministry employees also witnessed the incident. None of this made any difference.

Mr Harry Potter's disappearance highlights incompetence in both the Ministry and the staff of Hogwarts that puts the members of the public at risk. The public is in danger as long as we are in the hands of the current Minister Cornelius Fudge and the students of Hogwarts are not safe under Headmaster Dumbledore's care.

Mr Dumbledore has refused to comment about his alleged intentional endangerment of the students under his care. His silence is disgraceful in this troubled time; the public deserve to know whether their children are safe or if this disgraceful act of negligence will continue.

The Ministry has stated they will be pouring all of their efforts into locating Mr Potter. One wonders however if this will be enough, after they have already proved their incompetence.

Debate still rages as to whether Mr Fudge and Mr Dumbledore should be made responsible for their endangerment of the lives of Harry and the other students who were at risk.

Former governor of Hogwarts Lucius Malfoy stated that he would not have tolerated this disgrace when he was on the board and that he is willing to donate as many galleons and spend as much time as it takes to bring Harry home safely and to keep the students safe. It is unfortunate that the Minister of Magic is not willing to make the same commitment.

By Rita Skeeter

…

The headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore gently laid the Daily Profit on his desk. In the flickering glow of the fire he looked very tired; the shadows that fell across his face deepened the slight hollow of his cheeks already present. Albus slowly pulled himself to his feet, his joints creaking and protesting and with an almost sad look; he left his office, intent on bringing the Order of the Phoenix back together.

A tiny golden instrument was left behind, sitting forlornly on the desk. It was quite still. After 13 years of constant movement, the device's immobility was the reason for Albus Dumbledore's tired appearance. The device that monitored Harry Potter's well being was neither whirring nor spinning. It was motionless. Harry Potter was dead. The Order was their last hope.


End file.
